


We're Not Okay But We're Getting Better

by Kanaynays



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Bonding, Fluff, Rick's not okay but he won't admit it, and he loves his family but he won't say it out loud
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-11
Updated: 2015-11-11
Packaged: 2018-05-01 02:50:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5189336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kanaynays/pseuds/Kanaynays
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The shaking was good. It was healthy. It was an acknowledgement of the fact that what they went through was frightening, and not to be taken lightly. It was fine. It was healthy. It was good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We're Not Okay But We're Getting Better

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! This is my first work on AO3, and I'm pretty proud to dedicate it to this fandom- Rick and Morty has been steadily taking over my life since the first time I watched it, and after the season finale, I knew I had to write something for it. Apologies if anyone in this fic is OOC at all, I've been working on this one for a while now so I hope you like it! ^-^

Morty was shaking. Rick could see it, Summer and Beth could see it- even _Jerry_ could see it, but nobody commented. Breakfast continued as normal and the kids were sent off to school as though nothing was wrong. Shaking was hardly out of the ordinary- since Rick had turned up again, at least. If anything, shaking was good. It meant there was fear. It was an acknowledgement of the fact that what they went through was _frightening_ , and not to be taken lightly. It was fine. It was healthy. It was _good_.

As he slunk out the door after his sister, Morty glanced back at the table and caught Rick's eye, and his frown, and hurriedly averted his gaze. He was fine. A little shaking never hurt anybody. Today was just... worse. But he would be fine. He'd tough through it, like Rick was always telling him to. He'd suck it up and move on, like every good Morty should.

By the time he took his seat in Science, Morty felt sick to his stomach. He spent half the lesson staring at his desk, the grain wobbling beneath his unsteady and distant gaze. He did his best to answer whenever the teacher called on him to do so, but his words were vacant and usually an apology or an excuse. She gave up trying fairly quickly.

His eyes drifted to the clock. Ten minutes to go, then straight to Math. His gut roiled unpleasantly. Usually he looked forward to his Math classes- not for the learning itself, but because it was the one class he spent with Jessica. Today, not so much. He and Jessica had been getting closer lately, and she had started noticing whenever something was off- and worse than that, she had started pointing it out, asking if something was wrong. He wasn't sure if he could answer that today. The shakes had come from nowhere and he couldn't see them going away anytime soon.

At eight minutes to go, Morty tensed without knowing why- then he heard it- a split-second of footsteps slamming down the hall before the door to their room was slammed open, revealing a tall, lanky old man with wild, windblown hair.

He fought the urge to groan as Rick shouted something mildly unintelligible. He didn't bother listening, it was the usual nonsense about a non-existent emergency- something to do with the family? Their dog, who wasn't even with them anymore? Either way, he was relieved. An adventure with his grandfather would distract him from dwelling on less pleasant memories of adventures with his grandfather, as odd as it sounded. He let himself be dragged out of the classroom and into the waiting flying machine, but frowned when he realised Rick wasn't moving with any of his usual haste.

"Wait..." he said slowly, eyeing his grandfather. "Wait, Rick- where are we going?"

"Home," Rick replied simply.

Morty looked him up and down. He couldn't smell alcohol on him- no more than usual, anyway- and he wasn't drooling, so he couldn't have been drinking.

"Y-you mean the garage?" he asked tentatively.

"No," Rick said, annoyance creeping into his tone. "I said home, didn't I? We're going home."

"D-do you mean _home_ as in-"

"I mean home as in the place where we _live_ , dumbass. We're fucking going home, what more do you want?"

Morty flinched, pursing his lips and turning his attention out the window. Even without moving at their usual breakneck speed it was a quick drive back to their house, then Morty's arm was once again in Rick's tight grip as he was dragged- to his surprise- into the loungeroom.

"Wait- Rick- wh-what-"

"Sh-shut up and sit down," Rick interrupted, dumping his grandson unceremoniously on the couch. He disappeared into the kitchen for a moment, returning with two packets of crisps Morty was _sure_ his mother hadn't bought and to large mugs of hot chocolate. He set it all down on the coffee table before taking a seat next to Morty and flicking on the TV.

"Get comfortable, Morty. This channel is having a full ten-hour marathon of all three of the best Ball Fondlers movies," Rick said, nudging Morty and wiggling his unibrow.

Morty's mind briefly flickered back to school and he was surprised at the sincerity in his tone. When he reached for his mug his grip was steady, and he was smiling by the time the opening explosions were rolling.

He was too absorbed in the movie to hear Rick softly mutter "Stop fucking shaking," a few minutes later.

 

* * *

 

 

". . . ummer..."

" _Summer!_ "

Summer was jolted out of her reverie by the shout and she jumped, huffing in playful annoyance as she gently slapped the girl beside her on the arm. Stacey Matthews was one of the friendlier girls from her History class, and had been hanging out with her friends before spotting Summer at a cafe and inviting her to join them. Summer, wanting to be alone but at the same time not wanting to refuse the offer, had ended up being semi-unwillingly dragged along.

"You good, man?" Stacey asked, still grinning. "You've been zoning out a lot today."

"It's fine, I'm good," Summer laughed. "Sorry, just a little distracted I guess."

Stacey hummed thoughtfully, then linked her arm through Summer's. "Come on then, I know what you need- ice cream!"

Summer felt a chill creep down her spine but she smiled through it, clenching her jaw to suppress a sudden urge to retch. She laughed again and hoped it didn't sound strained as she followed her friend down the street, ignoring the excited babbling of her other companions and the cold lump of regret settling in her stomach.

She had gone to the cafe that day to be alone. Her parents were arguing about something stupid again and Morty was being unintentionally insufferable bragging about the latest adventure he'd been on with their grandpa who was, as usual, holed up in the shed working on his latest invention. She wasn't as bitter about not being able to go on adventures by herself with Rick as she'd been before. The old man had pulled her aside a while ago to explain the whole brainwave thing and she couldn't fault him for wanting to be careful, not with _his_ reputation- the _his_ in this sense referring to the thousands of inter-dimensional likenesses. It still didn't stop her from hurting completely.

She'd just needed some time to herself, and now that she found herself in the company of others, though she would usually be reveling in it, she found herself instead feeling strung-out and tense.

They were rounding a corner when she felt her phone buzzing in her pocket. Apologising briefly to her friends she pulled her phone out to answer it, breathing a small " _Oh_ " of surprise when she realised it was Rick calling her. She was interrupted before she could say anything.

"Look- first of all, shut up. Don't say anything. I'm in the store across the street from you so I can see you hanging out with your dipshit friends who obviously don't know you well enough to ditch you since it looks like you would literally rather be anywhere else. Pretend it's your dumbass of a father if you want out."

Summer didn't hesitate. She sighed in frustration and shifted the phone to her other ear, rolling her eyes at Stacey, who giggled in response. "Honestly dad, I don't know why you're calling me about this, if you want the TV working just ask Rick for help."

"Understood. Pretend to be annoyed with me."

"Then _why_ were you messing with the cables in the first place?"

"Nice. B-but also- when I get there, not just now. Hang up."

"Ugh. I'm hanging up, dad."

She did so and rolled her eyes again at her friends. "Honestly, he _needs_ to get a job soon. Or at least a hobby or something, having him home all the time _sucks_."

Stacey smiled and was about to reply when they heard Rick's recognisable grating voice from across the road.

"H-urp-ey, _SUMMER_!"

They looked over as one to see him standing out the front of a hardware store, one hand clutching a bag that looked like it was filled with nothing but wrenches and the other waving wildly to get her attention.

Recalling his instructions, Summer dropped her shoulders and groaned.

"Is that like an... _old_ Tiny Rick?" one of her companions- David? Davey? she honestly couldn't remember- asked in confusion.

"Yeah, he's my grandpa," she said as though the mere concept of it caused her physical pain. "What?!" she called back.

"Get the fuck over here, this shit isn't gonna carry itself and you're young, right?" he shouted hoarsely. "These ol-old bones ain't what they used to be, respect your... grandpa... or whatever the fuck, yadda yadda, just- just come carry this shit for me, I forgot where I parked the spaceship."

Summer snorted, shaking her head. "Sorry guys," she said apologetically. "Looks like I gotta go- can we hang out some other time though?"

"Of course!" Stacey replied enthusiastically, her cohorts nodding in agreement. "Have fun with Tiny- um. Old? Old Rick. Your grandpa. See you later!"

Summer waved them goodbye and crossed the street, taking the bag of wrenches from him before he had the chance to berate her for not doing so. She knew him well enough to be aware of the fact that him wanting her to carry his shit was not part of the act.

"What do you need a bag of wrenches for anyway?" she asked, jostling the bag and listening to the resulting clinking of metal. "This _is_ all just wrenches, right?"

"What? Oh. You can dump those if you want," he replied, waving dismissively at them. "I don't need 'em, they were just to get those idiots off your back. Wh-why were you hanging out with those los-losers anyway? Last I heard you wanted time alone, not to be tagging after a bunch of unobservant wads."

Summer stared at him in surprise, momentarily struck speechless. "I... W-well," she stammered, "they're- they're nice people, I didn't want to blow them off or anything, so-"

"First rule of human interaction, Summer," Rick cut in, placing a firm hand on her shoulder and steering her away from the store. "Humans love doing shit for each other. People like Stacey get off on thinking they're doing someone a favour. She would have understood if you'd told her you wanted to be alone."

She shot him a skeptical glance as they climbed into the spaceship which was, as she'd suspected, just around the corner and very much not forgotten at all. "Since when do _you_ know Stacey?"

"Since Tiny Rick absorbed her into his clique. You forget, Summer, that during my brief stint as a high school student I was more popular than either you or Morty could ever _dream_ of being, _combined_." He raised his brow at her. "Are you _still_ carrying those wrenches?"

"Hm?" Summer looked down and realised her hand was still clutching the bag of tools. With a shrug she dumped them amongst the many empty bottles of unmarked alcohol littered at her feet. "Not anymore," she said smugly.

"Fuckin smartass piece of shit," her grandfather muttered, and she gave him her best shit-eating grin in response. Though he tried to hide it, she could see a twitch of amusement on his lips and his shoulders seemed to sag a little- as though some deep-seated tension had been momentarily released. She took in a deep breath as the ship took off, watching the ground disappear below her and already feeling both calmer and infinitely more afraid in his presence. It was nice.

They shared a few minutes of silence before Rick suddenly sent the ship rocketing upwards. Summer gasped in shock and Rick barked with laughter, keeping one hand on the steering wheel while he rummaged through the glovebox with the other.

"G-grandpa Rick, what are you doing?!" Summer yelled, grasping onto the dashboard with white-knuckled hands. As they sped up and Rick straightened, shoving a laser gun into her hand, she couldn't help but laugh. "What's this for?"

"There's a planet outside the juristiction of the Galactic Federation that is _covered_ in these shitty creatures called Goggocks. They're slow-running pants-pissing little dumbasses that are _great_ for shooting at. He grinned at her, pulling out a gun for himself as they approached a small non-descript looking planet devoid of much foliage but, as they got closer, was revealed to be swarming with fat little red creatures scurrying about in packs. "Super cathartic- you want in?"

Summer felt a sudden rush of affection for the old man beside her that she was careful not to show. Instead she snorted, tightened her grip on her gun, and slid her bag off her shoulder. She dismissed all thoughts of home from her mind- her parents, her brother, adventures she was never meant to have- and pushed open the door the second they landed.

Hours later the two sat side-by-side, covered in sweat and sickly green blood, laughing and panting and beaming maniacally at the sight of the mangled corpses strewn about them.

"Alright," Summer said breathlessly, "I think I'm ready to go home."

Rick scoffed. "Who said you were in charge of this operation?" he asked, but he stood regardless, helping her to her feet and leading the way back to the ship.

He neglected to mention that he managed to waste another hour kicking Goggock heads between them.

 

* * *

 

 

Morty and Summer exchanged worried glances over the table as they ate their breakfast. Though neither of them could pinpoint it, both shared the feeling that something was distinctly wrong.

"- And then because _that_ happened, he needs me to fill in for _both_ of those people and- ugh, it's a mess," their mother was saying, picking angrily at their bacon. Suddenly she softened, gently touching her father on the arm to get his attention. He grunted through pursed lips, his fork making scraping sounds as he pushed his scrambled eggs into the shape of a dinosaur. "So, yeah, I'm going to be _really_ late getting home tonight, and Jerry's taken the ship you gave Summer ages ago to visit his new internet friend in Sweden- would you mind picking up the kids after school? I-it's okay if you can't, it would just-"

"It's _fine_ , Beth," he interrupted after dropping his fork with a clatter. He rested his chin on one hand, absent-mindedly taking hers in the other. He frowned a little, gently rubbing her skin, and Morty wondered how often his hands had touched anything but cold, lifeless metal during his time in that hellhole of a prison, if he'd touched anything else at all.

"You're sure?" Beth asked softly, letting her hands go limp in his grasp. "If you're doing something else-"

"Nah. It's-"

He stopped, his entire body going rigid for a split-second before drawing his hand away and pushing his chair back from the table. "It's fine," he finished abruptly before picking up his plate- still full- with twitching hands and hurriedly leaving the room. "Y-you know, that is, if I don't forget," he called from the kitchen. "Which probably wouldn't be a bad thing, little shits need the exercise. Gotta keep fit for... I don't know, whatever the fuck kids are doing these days. Hopscotch? Do you tools still play hopscotch?"

"We're not six, grandpa," Summer called in as deadpan a tone as she could manage.

"What? Oh. No no, I'm not talking about _that_ kind of-" Rick stopped himself as he came back into the room, giving them an odd look. "You know what? Never mind. I-it's probably a good thing you- you don't know what it- never mind. I'll be in the garage."

With a swish of his lab coat he left the room again and the table was silent in his wake until they all heard the familiar sound of the garage door slamming shut behind him. The rest of the meal passed in relative silence, broken by the comfortingly familiar sounds of clanging and indecipherable screeching coming from Rick's workspace.

As Beth drove them to school, the feeling of wrongness that had plagued them all morning threatened to overwhelm Morty and Summer- like they shouldn't be going to school, shouldn't have even left the house in the first place. They chalked it up to being worried about Rick, but it wasn't like that was unusual. Since he'd finally come back, everyone had simultaneously made a show of being concerned and been doing their best to hide it from him. Rick had made it perfectly clear that he wouldn't tolerate being treated like an invalid, and while he may be just a little thinner than he used to be, while he might have trouble eating and sleeping and- well, everything- he neither wanted nor needed their help. He said he could feel his bones pressing against his skin these days, but it was nowhere near as painful or irritating as their incessant yammering on about his health- that the bruises on his backside weren't as much of a pain in the ass as they were.

He'd showed intent of continuing, but he collapsed into a fit of snorting laughter before he could.

As they climbed out of the car, the siblings exchanged looks of foreboding before heading their separate ways. The day began as normal- Summer and Morty met up with their respective friends and prepared for their classes, but as the day went on, both found themselves growing increasingly tense for reasons they couldn't work out.

Summer stared at her contact list, her thumb repeatedly flicking up and down as she scrolled back and forth over Rick's name. She had been contemplating calling him for the past ten minutes, but again, she concluded that it would be a bad idea. He would figure out fairly quickly that she was calling to check up on him, and if that happened, there was a good chance he'd be pissed off enough to refuse to pick them up. It wasn't exactly an arduous walk from the school to their home, but it was long enough to be annoying. She slipped her phone back into her pocket and didn't touch it again until her last period which, as it turned out, didn't last too long anyway.

Ten minutes into the class it happened- the door slammed open, and for the first time in a _very_ long time, Summer jumped in response. She hadn't heard him coming down the hall, which was unusual to begin with, but now that she was looking at him she realised it wasn't just the silence. Something was definitely wrong.

"C-come on, Summer!" he began in his by-now familiar routine, striding over and gripping her wrist. "Pac-pack your sh-s-shit, we gotta _move_."

Summer stared at his hand in alarm. It was shaking- shaking _badly_. Wasting no time Summer nodded, gently shaking his hand loose to gather her things, then froze at the sound of someone very pointedly clearing their throat.

Fuck. She'd forgotten they had a substitute teacher that day.

She glanced at Rick, who had frozen as well, staring at the pleasant-looking man who was standing at the front of the class with a confused smile on his face and his hands clasped behind his back.

"I'm sorry, but who are you?" he asked in a polite tone which clearly set Rick on edge.

"He's my grandpa," Summer interrupted before Rick could reply with something undoubtedly rude. She glanced at her grandfather again, worriedly taking note of the fact that his shaking seemed to have worsened. "Sorry, Mr.- um, sir- I think I should-"

"Do you have a signed note?" he cut her off in a tone that was steadily decreasing in its politeness. "I'm afraid I can't let you just leave without a note of explanation from your parents."

Both Rick and Summer looked at the man in genuine surprise. In all the time Rick had been taking Morty on adventures, not one of the teachers at their school had ever objected to his intervention save for Principal Vagina, and even he had given up after a while. This nameless substitute's firm opposition disturbed them both- Rick in particular.

"D-d-didn't you h-hear her?" he asked through clenched teeth. "I-I'm her g-gr- _grandpa_. If I- if I wanna take her out of- out of class, I-I'll _t-take her out of class_. We've got _shit_ t-t-to do, we're _leaving_."

"With all due respect, Mr..." the substitute glanced at the class roll, "Mr. Smith-" Rick blanched- "Summer is required by the school to remain here unless she has a note from her parents stating her reason for leaving early, signed by the principal. Or if she's sick, which she doesn't appear to be."

Summer's skin prickled. The entire class was staring anxiously between them, hanging onto their every word. Rick seemed to have gone into shock, which surprised and scared Summer more than anything else. Usually he would have dragged her off by now regardless of intervention- seeing him caught so off-guard was unusual, and incredibly unpleasant.

"Grandpa Rick?" she whispered, jolting him out of his reverie. He looked at her and she almost flinched- his skin was pale and shone with a thin sheen of sweat, his whiskey-scented breath coming in shallow pants. "Grandpa Rick, are you okay?'

He pursed his lips, breathing unsteadily through his nose. "Th-this- this is-is- isn't- it's n-not- ugh-" he broke off, running a bony hand through his hair. "W-we-we ne-n-n-need to- need to g-get- _UGH_." He stopped himself again, pulling away from her and jamming his hands into the pockets of his lab coat. He was clearly struggling to speak, taking his time to enunciate his next words carefully past his stutter. "I- need- y-you. T-t-to com- to come. With. M-me."

"And again," her nameless substitute interrupted, "she needs a-"

" ** _SHUT_ UP!** " Summer shouted, turning to face him with her ponytail whipping around behind her. Her heart was pounding in fear- seeing Rick behave so strangely was infinitely more terrifying than any of the monsters they had encountered on their adventures. Clenching her jaw, she put her fear to work, ignoring the warning bells blaring in her mind that told her it would definitely come back to bite her later.

The man looked scandalized, but Summer kept going before he could even open his mouth to speak again. "We're leaving!" she yelled, grabbing Rick's arm and ignoring the stares of the other students. "And we're doing it without a _fucking_ note you _**asshole**_ ** _!_** "

Leaving her things behind, she dragged Rick out of the classroom and down the hall towards Morty's classroom.

"Um-" she began, her nerves returning, "you _do_ want Morty too, right?"

She looked back at him and noticed with no small amount of relief that he seemed to have mostly snapped out of whatever strange mood had taken hold of him, but the relief was short-lived when she realised it had been replaced with intense fatigue. Rick looked more tired than she'd ever seen him before. He only nodded weakly in response to her question, letting himself be dragged through the school until they reached the door to Goldenfold's Math class.

Morty, unlike Summer, was easy to retrieve. Mr. Goldenfold hardly gave them a second glance as Morty made his way out of the room, confused but hurrying when he saw the urgent look on Summer's face and the state Rick was in. They practically ran outside to the spaceship, moving to take their usual positions before realising Rick had already climbed into the back.

At their hesitance he frowned, reaching into his lab coat for his flask. His hands were shaking again.

"Mo-Morty's- Morty's dr-driving," he grunted, cursing when his fingers didn't immediately grasp the smooth metal. As Summer and Morty slid into their seats, he took hold of the flask and then hesitated, eyes wide and staring at something his grandchildren couldn't see.

Morty shared a worried glance with his sister then started the ship as Rick swore under his breath and buried his face in his hands, drink forgotten.

"Uh, R-Rick?" Morty asked anxiously. "Where- where- uh-"

" _Home_ ," Rick interrupted in a barely audible sigh. "J-jus-just ta- just take me the f-f-fuck h-ho-home."

They were there in record time. Rick hadn't moved a muscle during the ride, and it took them a few minutes to snap him out of his stupor when they arrived. When they did he looked at them blankly for a moment, fingers grasping for his flask again, then stiffened and swiftly emerged from the ship.

"Get inside," he muttered, finally pulling his flask from his lab coat only to toss it to the floor of the garage with a clang.

"Rick!" Morty called as the two hurried after him. "Rick, what's going on? A-are you okay-?"

"Sh-shut _up_ and get in-inside, Morty!"

"We _are_ inside!" Summer snapped, her fear and frustration finally getting the better of her. "Grandpa Rick-"

Sighing in frustration, she quickened her pace and managed to catch him by the arm before he took a step further. The three of them were standing in the loungeroom, halfway to the couch with Rick stubbornly avoiding his grandchildren's gaze.

"Summer's right, Rick," Morty said quietly but firmly. "Y-you're being really weird, and- and you're sh-shaking and everything, and it's- you gotta tell us what's going on, man."

"We want to _help_ ," Summer added. "And whether or not you like it, you _need_ our help. You can't deal with this by yourself."

Rick muttered something under his breath that neither of them could catch, then attempted to move away only to lose his footing and pitch forward. Both Summer and Morty let out exclamations of shock and hurried to catch him, fumbling for a moment in a mess of limbs before carrying their grandfather to the couch and laying him gently along its length. He was even paler than he'd been before, his eyes closed and his breathing unsteady.

"I ha-haven- I haven't-haven't- _fuck_ ," he struggled to say, gritting his teeth furiously. "I-I ha-haven't- I haven't e-  ** _FUCK_**." He dug the heels of his palms into his eyes, rubbing furiously. "I-I ha-haven't _fucking_ e-eat-eaten in a-a-a we- a w-"

"You haven't eaten in a week?!" Morty shrieked, dashing to the kitchen. "Wh-wh-what do you-you want?! I-I could make- uh- I-I'm not good at- at cooking- Summer?!"

"Hang on!" Summer responded. She had raced upstairs to fetch a blanket, only to return to Rick attempting to sit up and failing spectacularly. Huffing in annoyance she put a hand to his chest and pushed him back down, covering him with the blanket despite his protests.

"Just-just keep it _on_. Just keep it on, _please_ ," she said, a note of desperation entering her voice.

Rick halted his weak attempts at resistance and regarded her for a moment, his expression blank. When Summer shook a little something seemed to give way within him and he flopped back, roughly pulling the blanket over himself with no small amount of grumbling.

"Jus-just h-h-heat up t-the b-breakfast I didn't finish, it's s-s-s-still-still in the f-fridge," he said, his voice muffled. "A-an-and pass me th-the-the remote."

Summer nodded, gave Morty instructions for the microwave, and fetched the remote before sitting on the couch by Rick's head which, after a moment's deliberation, she pulled into her lap. To her surprise he didn't resist, but rather adjusted his position and snatched the device from her. He was still flicking through the channels by the time Morty returned, at which point Summer helped him sit up and curled a little closer than she'd usually have dared to his side. When Morty moved to sit next to his sister Rick grunted, pointing between the boy and his other side with an annoyed look on his face. Looking pleasantly bewildered Morty complied, copying Summer's position with a hesitance that melted when he realised Rick wasn't going to snap at him.

After more channel-surfing they settled on a full series marathon of Detective Baby-legs, both teenagers glancing away periodically to check on the man between them, who was doing his best to ignore them and concentrate instead on Baby-legs' hilarious antics. He only finished half his meal in the end, leaning back on the couch with a long sigh, his half-lidded eyes slowly slipping closed. Morty and Summer tensed a little, half-expecting him to throw off his blanket and trudge off to the garage, but it seemed he was going to say put for the time being. Moving carefully, the two shifted closer, leaning precariously against him.

By the time Beth got home they were fast asleep and she entered the loungeroom to the sight of them pressed close against her father, who had adjusted the blanket so that it covered the three of them with his arms draped around them both. Detective Baby-legs was still airing, the diminutive investigator and his regular-sized companion currently engaged in a shoot-out with a large cross-eyed mafia boss.

He looked around as she walked in, regarding her with a calm expression that was all too rare these days. She smiled in response.

"Everything go well?" she asked softly, running a hand through Morty's hair and taking a seat on the coffee table.

He was silent for a moment, then sighed, leaning his head on the back of the couch. "I took them home early," he admitted softly. "Couldn't be alone today."

She nodded as she processed his words, responding gently. "I'm glad you did."

Rick snorted. "I don't want to be coddled."

". . . I know."

"I can take care of myself."

"I know."

"I've got evidence."

"I-"

"The-the evidence being me, I'm the evidence, Beth."

"Uh-huh."

"Which isn't the best, I'll give you that, but a-at least my dick still works."

" _ **Dad**_."

"But every now and then..." Rick trailed off, suddenly turning sober. "Bethie, just... Ignore my bullshit for five minutes and sit me down? I might tell myself otherwise, but... I can't keep going like this, Beth."

Beth fought back the prickling in her eyes. "I can do that," she said weakly.

Rick looked at her fondly, leaning forward and taking his arm away from Morty to grasp her hand in his own, running his thumb along the veins showing through her skin.

"Just not when Jerry's around."

Beth snorted and giggled despite vain attempts not to do either, and flipped her hand over so that she was holding his in return.

"I think I can handle that."

"Good. N-now get a blanket and s-some wine, this marathon's gonna b-be going through the night and I want to at l-least get to the bit where Baby-legs has to shoot Big Dick's boyfriend."

She did so quickly, settling at her father's feet wrapped in a thick blanket and sitting on a small mound of pillows with two glasses of red wine on the table. She didn't make it to the part Rick mentioned- exhausted from work, Beth slipped into a deep sleep within the first episode, her quiet snores putting Rick at ease.

He spent a few minutes gently stroking her hair, fiddling with any knots and tangles he came across, before pulling back and glancing to either side of him. He pulled his grandchildren closer to his side, turned down the volume of the TV, and let out a long, deep breath. He didn't sleep that night, but for the first time since returning home, he felt truly, genuinely content.


End file.
